Gcse Short Story Coursework

The rooms were confined to themselves by a large metal door with a small slot about 5 feet from the floor that could only be opened from the outside. The walls were once a brilliant white, but now filled with the scratch marks and blood stains from the ones before me. The room stench of urine, most likely from the other patients. All there was in the room was a small cot with a mattress so thin, it almost looked as if it was a thin piece of plywood. As I laid there strapped to my bed by leather restraints that were made to “protect” me from myself, I kept pondering on the question “what did I do to deserve to be locked up in a place like this?” Then I remember my crime, and smile.

“Right this way,” the nurse ahead of me was prompting me to a brightly lit hall that was completely foreign to me. I couldn’t help but be terrified by the sights and sounds around me: people chattering, machines methodically beeping, gurneys rushing past. It was my first time in a hospital and my eyes frantically searched each room looking for any trace of my father. She stopped suddenly and I turned to the bed in front of me but I could not comprehend what I saw. At such a young age, I idolized my father; I had never seen him so vulnerable. Seeing him laying in a hospital bed unconscious, surrounded by wires and tubes was like witnessing Superman encounter kryptonite. My dad’s car accident not only made him a quadriplegic, but also crippled

“There is something strange about this house”, Scarlett murmured to herself. Ten days ago, her mother bought a penthouse which costed a huge amount of money. The penthouse had luxurious amenities, high end appliances, finest furniture and luxurious flooring system, etc. By this Scarlett was exited but at the same time specifically her room was an eccentrics of the luxurious penthouse. Scarlett even knew about the previous owner who was a film producer Sam who had disappeared. Later, after two days the body was found decomposed in a nearby cemetery. This really irked Scarlett. From the following ten day she has been experiencing situations which are hard to describe. For example, feeling like someone is observing, sounds of screaming, doors creaking,

There was a strong pungent of disinfectants and rubbing alcohol as she was rushed into the lobby. Crying out her last breath to express her agonizing pain as she lied down on the cold gurney. The nurses in a light blue uniform quickly arrived as several doctors in long white gowns rushed to the scene. Her mother was by her side, holding her hands as tight as she could, as the nurses pushed the agitating gurney towards the automatic doors. Soon her visions blurred and as the world turned into a tint of pink and red. As her vision slowly darkened, she solely relied on the touch of her mother’s warm hand and her soothing voice. Notwithstanding the tight grip of her mother’s hands, they was soon torn apart. Fear took over her body as she cried even louder. The sudden yet rhythmic beep was the last memory she could recall. It was March 5th.

"In life, there are times when we choose our challenges and other times when the challenges simply choose us” - Travis Roy. I don’t remember what happened to me, I was told I was hit by a car. I was placed in a medically induced coma, for a month. Slowly, the doctor lowered the sedatives to see how I can breathe on my own, within six weeks everything was removed. I woke up; there were family and friends around my hospital bed. I was confused because I had no idea what happened. Mom and Uncle Ray told me stories about how angry I was and would try to get out of bed.

I jolt awake. “Must have been a bad dream” I thought to myself. I looked around and was shocked at my surroundings. A destroyed hospital room. The paint on the walls is peeling and it smells like old sheets and medicine. The beds are covered in rust and pieces of the ceiling have fallen on the floor. The room is dark, but the sun is shining through the barricaded windows. I rip the needles out of my arms and struggle to stand up. I put on my clothes that were still neatly folded under the bed. I walk out of the room. There were blood stains on the wall and random hospital supplies thrown on the floor. My heart starts to race. I try to think of what could have happened. While I was thinking I was snapped out of my thoughts by a banging behind me. I turn around to see a door, bolted shut. I decide not to open it. I begin to walk

I sat in the common area as the other patients colored and played cards. What they were doing didn’t really matter to me, I just wanted to be alone. I’d always feel like I was drowning, so it came to me as a surprise to me when the nurses told me that if I were breathing, I was winning. At night I’d lay on the blue plastic mattress and miss my room and everything it stood for. The blue lights that are strung along my bed, illuminate my nights. The pictures of the one I love line my walls, they are the barrier that protects me from the rest of the world. The blue plastic mattress draped in thin white sheets stood for the cold empty feeling I couldn’t get rid of. My nights were full of my thoughts bombarding my

I sat there cold and motionless, not even the sun on that warm summer day could bring me to life. “There is nothing left to do. This is the end.” The words played continuously in my head like a broken record. I had to find the willpower to stand, walk back into the hospital, and say my final goodbye to my mom.

This was the same patient that I had delivered warm blankets to, that I was face-to-face with earlier before knowing of his condition. At that moment the reality of impermanence hit me. I saw how the incurability of a disease and medicine merged and how real the problems that medicine seeks to resolve truly are. I was thirty feet away from a dying man and five feet away from a doctor trying to wrestle with the man’s eventual death. To many, this experience would have been depressing, a dream-crusher that showed the shortcomings of medicine’s ability to stop death in its tracks. However, this experience of being close to medicine and death at once was an experience that humbled me, an experience that called me closer towards my desire to do all that I can to heal through medicine.

The morning wind is as cold as ice, slicing passed my skin while I’m standing against it. It always like today of every year: cloudy, cold and sad. Like the sky is crying with me. I blend down to a tall, sleek, marble stone with the name “Amelia Bennett” written on it. That’s my mother’s name. She died when I was 7 year-old, it’s odd that I have the memories of her very clearly in my brain. Most children probably won’t. But I do, and I when I do, I missed her. I don’t even know what happened on that tragic day. I was blacked out and the next thing I remember is that she’s now laying deep underneath my feet. No one knows what happen, or no one wants to talk about it, not even my aunt. She’s the one that take me in after the accident. Why? Because

The day was August 1st, 2013. Summer was coming to an end and fall was close at hand. However, on this particular day, I paid no mind to the changing season. Hundreds of people strolled the hospital hallway, their voices echoing the long pale corridors like distant hums. Despite the outside chatter, my room encompassed a certain stillness. I had always associated stillness with serenity, but this stillness was made up of apprehension, hopefulness, and most notably, fear. As I sat on a bed meant for sick patients, I looked around the small confines of the white room to my family. Within each of them I saw panic; I saw the fear of losing me. After what seemed like a lifetime suspended within a cruel dream, the doctor finally entered the room.

After an intense amount of screaming and noise you really learn to appreciate those moments you're alone and everything is quiet. I still wasn’t over what had just happened, I sat there watching as nurses passed by going up and down the hall as if I was watching cars fly by in traffic. Every Now and then I would find myself glancing down at my arm and leg that were covered in bandages so thick I felt like the younger brother from the Christmas Story. Waking up the next morning was filled with confusion as to where I was and how had I gotten here. It didn't take me that long to remember I was in a hospital and I was there because I had broken my arm in a double compound fracture, with a five inch long abrasion. Now I’d be lying if I said that

I remember standing in the emergency room staring at the ugly neutral colored walls; the bright fluorescent lights shining down on me like a spotlight. I remember the clean sterile smell of antiseptic and the noises that surrounded me; the buzzing and beeping of the machines and monitors meant to help people, the constant stream of announcements, and people talking on the phone. I remember the hurried rush of everyone around me, the nurses and doctors and frantic family members. I remember standing there feeling completely empty, this couldn’t really be happening t, it was the most exciting time of the year for a 16 year old-or anyone in that case-it was Christmas Eve.

My supervisor, one of the head nurses, hurriedly pulled me to the corner of the bleach white hospital room and directed me to put on gloves, an eye mask, and a face mask. I felt as if I was preparing for war as I put on all of the required gear. The sound of expensive shoes click-clacked down the hallway indicating the arrival of two doctors who rushed into the room and shouted out orders to the staff while pulling the doors to the room shut along with the curtains. Two doctors, eight nurses, an intern, and a dying patient squeezed into the already claustrophobic ten by fifteen-foot room. The machine monitoring the patient’s vital signs continued to beep incessantly as my heart rate accelerated. Throughout my internship, I had never seen a patient in critical condition until that moment. I remembered my teacher’s advice if we were ever in a situation such as this: take a few deep breaths and sit down if you feel like you’re going to pass out. In that

It's gross, but I don't care. It feels suddenly like all the life has drained out of me and I sit there, limp and emotionless for a long, long time until Alex is pounding on the door, begging me to let him in. His voice is loud and broken and I can tell he's been crying. It feels like the entire world is falling around me and when I finally open the door, shaking like a leaf,I collapse into his arms."It's going to be okay,"Alex whispers into my temple, smearing tears into my hair.I'm not convinced, but I follow Alex back to Dr. Allen's office anyway because what else am I supposed to do?Once we're settled back in the uncomfortable plastic chairs the doctor smiles professionally.I wonder how many people he's had to tell they were dying. He's